When the Camera's Turned Off
by x Ruby Dust x
Summary: The story of a backstage announcer's rise anf all of stardom through some 'accidental' situations. Meanwhile, she and her best friend get closer than ever. The story of what goes on behind the scenes.WARNING: sexual content & strong language.
1. Chapter 1: FORSHADOW

**Author's Note:**

i will be the first one to admit that this is NOT the on the normal venue for my writing, but ... i'm a HUGE John Cena fan... that man is soooooo sexy! i used to watch wrestling when i was younger, but my brother never fails to miss a show. i was watching it the other day... and i thought of this opening...

so here it is. i want this story to be kind of dark- esque, and...well... as the title indicates, about what happens behind the scenes. (basically i deals with the my OC and her rise through the buisness).

i hope you guys like it!

REVIEW!

Ruby Dust

**Chapter One**

(foreshadow)

Everything goes quiet. The lights follow suite, darkening everything around into a hollow abyss. The only thing left is the ring, sitting squarely in the center of the arena. Some artificial sunlight drips down from the overhead emergency bulbs so only a single circle is illuminated. Confetti litters the canvas, remaining the only remnants of this week's elaborate storyline. Something I like to call the illusion. Poetic, yet tragically realistic.

Some find the illusion comforting, something they can hold onto when they're in doubt. Others openly accept it, refusing to believe what lies beneath. Picture it: your idol, strong and handsome, valiantly fighting their rival and it all ending with a largely overdue celebration. I used to find the illusion comforting, and accepted it into my daily life, but not anymore.

The camera's turn off for another night and the crowd goes back to their lives, homes, and families. The superstars go back to their hotel room. Maybe they run to catch a flight back home. The one time they look forward to, before going back to the gym in the morning. The illusion's broken, at least until the next week. Or the next broadcast.

I find myself sitting in the middle of the circle, legs crossed, staring at the giant screen hanging below the fist. My picture was just one that screen, and I couldn't help thinking that. My illusion was not only broken, but disappearing. Evaporating, even, from my existence.

And all for the sake of entertainment...

I spotted him appear from behind the curtain. Slowly, he makes his way down the ramp towards me, staring right back. I can see that he's smiling, but I know he's just as uncertain.

In this instant, it's like I can read his mind. He's asking himself what I'm doing here. He asking why this all seems so dramatic. _Too_ dramatic. He's thinking about asking me what I'm thinking about. He always asks me that, even if he really doesn't want to hear.

He continues towards me, stopping at the bottom of the ropes. I wanted to leap up hug him. I wanted him to come into the ring, pick me up, kiss me, run his hands over my body, and tell me that everything was 'okay'.

But he didn't. And I didn't. Instead, I sat harder. I brought my knees to my chest in an attempt to hide myself. If the situation was as bad as I was making it out to be, he would come to me and do all the things I wanted. He didn't budge. He continued staring for another few, incredibly nerve-racking and intense moments, then nodded towards the barricade. He scaled it with one leap, then placed himself in the front row of folding chairs.

An explosion of sound came from his pocket in the form of a 'riiiiinnnnnggggg.' I watched him sneak his cell phone from his pocket and turn it off. It as his girlfriend, no doubt. She was probably wondering where he was.

The silence was beginning to drive me crazy. It was making me reflect upon everything that had made me this pathetic. Yet, I subjected myself to it. And yet again, I wanted it to end.

Then the pity was washed away by a flood of anger ripping through my veins and cutting at my heart. He told me he'd have my back! He told me that he's be there! Well he's here now and he's not doing a damn thing! "...talk..." The words passed through my lips on a whisper that was barely audible. I strained my eyesight to see more than just his outline when I realized he had no intention of doing anything. I felt the anger grow, forming a knot in my throat. "TALK!" I screamed, letting the pressure go.

He folded his hands to his chin and redirected his eyes to the floor. He was telling me: When _you're _ready...

Tears were running down my cheeks, staining them with the make-up I had be given to wear. Running further with every passing moment, more stains formed on the clothes I had been given to wear. This made me angrier. I tore at the material, shredding until I broke a nail. With that, the rest of my body crumpled to the canvas and I cried.

My dream, my illusion, was shattered...

****

* * *

**EXPLANATION!**

this chapter is just something to show you what my story is going to be like. THIS WILL HAPPEN/ TIE IN LATER IN THE STORY! i put it here to foreshadow that this fic is not going to be one of those ones where a completely novice OC comes in and wins the WWE/Woman's championship within a matter of days. that's not realistic. as my summary states, my OC starts from a low position and works up. this chapter can indicate two possible things.

1) she'll get to the top and have "the illusion" come crashing down

or

2) she'll never get to where she wants to be.

...i'll leave it up to you to decide for now...


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Sitting in the Raw diva's locker room was an honor that I had only dreamt about since I was a small girl growing up in Boston. Here I was, after twenty one short years of life. Well, I wasn't exactly where I wanted to be, but it was a start. Being a backstage announcer was still more than I thought that I'd ever accomplish. These girls lived, breathed, and sweat the WWE. I wanted that. I wanted it all.

There was a loud buzzing coming from my jeans. I reached in my pocket and pulled out my phone, reading the message aloud: Interview in five.

Torrie Wilson, who was standing next to me, leaned over my shoulder to read herself. "Good luck, Acelynn." She smiled. Her smile was sweet and genuine, unlike some other prima-divas in the locker room.

I nodded back, giving her my own sincere smile. It wasn't going to be my first interview, I've done them countless times, but I could never get a good shot. I always got stuck interviewing some hot-headed superstar who was full of himself. So much so, that he would mess everything up and the footage would never get to the editing truck. Then there's the other situation. I didn't even want to think about it.

Slipping out of my large hoodie and snug jeans, I changed into the promiscuous clothing of a WWE diva. Which usually defines a mini mini-skirt and a shirt that barely covers anything. The clothing made me a little uncomfortable at first, but if it's what I had to do to rise in the business, so be it.

Luckily, tonight, they gave me something that at least covered my stomach. Something silk. Something clingy.

Pulling at the shirt the entire time, I ran to where they conducted the backstage interviews. I could hear the crowd screaming, chanting... even breathing. It grew increasingly hotter the deeper I got down the hallway until I was just in front of the ramp entrance. There, they had the familiar step-up and the monitor already hanging from the ceiling. Matt, the sound-check guy, handed me a microphone as Jack, the camera guy, got ready. "So who's it this time?" I asked, balancing on the balls of my feet. Swaying back and forth, I held my breath as I saw my interviewee walking down the hall, the most malicious smile perched on his face. It was my worst nightmare.

I threw my microphone on the ground and started stomping in the opposite direction. "No!" I yelled, "Call Todd."

John Cena grabbed me by the arm and pulled me back on the set. It was kind of hard to resist him. "Is that how you treat all your best friends?" He picked up the microphone and handed it to me, mocking me the whole time.

"Shut up! I'm not doing it! Jack...," Jack already had his camera on his shoulder. I turned back to my _best friend _and bunched my eyebrows in the middle of my head. I thought maybe he would take me seriously if I looked it. "Johnny, I'm not kidding around here. None of my footage has made it to air since I've been here. None! Two-thirds of that was of you...being an idiot..." I was starting to get a headache, but it was probably from my scowled expression.

Cena stood there a moment, then hoisted his WWE Title higher on his shoulder. It was almost like he was saying something. Only it was something he couldn't say out loud. He was glaring at me like my mother used to when I was throwing a hissy-fit, but it didn't phase me. "Please...just this once... please, don't do anything stupid."

The smile still set in place, Cena put his arm around me, towering over my side, and turned towards the camera. Jack began the countdown. "And three...two...one..." He pointed a finger, signaling that it was my turn to do the talking.

I shrugged Cena's arm off my shoulder, took a deep breath, and just said the first thing that came to mind. "Acelynn here with reigning WWE Champion John Cena. Earlier tonight, Jonathan Coachman took it upon himself to make a match between the champ and Umaga... tell us, champ, what are your feelings on this?"

Cena made a face, and looked towards the ceiling. I could feel it coming... "Uh... ehhh..."

"That's it!" I made the cut sign with my hand and handed Cena the microphone. "That's it! You want me to get fired... fine."

"Ace...Ace..." He grabbed my hand and led me back, once again, to the interview set. "I'm sorry, okay. I'll do it right, alright. Come on..."

Against all my judgement, I let him convince me. "Last time." I mumbled.

But before Jack could hoist the camera on his shoulder again, Coach came running down the hall, panting and rambling about something. "Acelynn," He sighed, trying to catch his breath, "Mr. McMahon wants to see you. Now."

"About what?"

"Didn't say, but you better hurry up. He's not in a great mood."

I looked at Cena, who just shrugged back. "Great. I hate you."

"You love me!" He yelled after me.

I walked away, extremely aware that he was watching my skirt sway as I did so. Waving behind my back, I shrugged the discomfort off.

"Chinese later?" He yelled again, patting Coach on the back and watching him stumble.

"You're buying!" I laughed, turning the corner and walking out of earshot. My laugh turned into a nervous chuckle as I walked towards Vince's office. I couldn't help it, but my muscles tensed as I was preparing for the worst.

**A/N: **

okay, not as good as i thought the last chapter was, but this is just kind of an inroductary chapter.

oh!... i know i mentioned i wanted this to be kind of dark, but i forgot to mention that my OC will be a little mary-sue-ish at some points. i don't intend for that to happen, but sometimes i get too involved with the emotional elements... and well... i'm not saying that's "okay", i'm just warning you.

okay! REVIEW! please...

Ruby


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Walking down the hallway was like walking to your sentencing. Never knowing what to expect, yet you prepare for the worst. Once standing in front of the large wooden threshold, I raised my fist to the door. Knocking had to be the hardest thing I've ever done in my life. There was a gruff, "Yeah!" from inside. Laying my hand on the handle, I took a deep breath and plunged into the room. I figure the whole situation was like a band-aid, just get it done in one swift motion.

"Mr. McMahon... I..." But before I could get anything else out, he raised a hand to me. I froze. There was a feeling deep down in the pit of my stomach that was telling me this was going to be bad. Like... _fired_... bad.

"Acelynn... sit, sit." I followed, raising my eyebrows at the situation. Maybe Coach was messing with me. He didn't seem to be in bad mood. Not yet, at least.

"Uh... Mr. McMahon, I'm sorry but I think I should know from the get-go, what's this about?" Tried to seem as lady-like as I could be, crossing my legs and folding my hands in my lap. It was like I was talking to royalty. Only, not so much. WWE royalty... now I was just rambling to myself.

Vince took several moments to sort out some paperwork that was laying around his desk, piled every paper precisely, then placed the stack before me. "Acelynn, I've noticed your work around here..."

"I can explain...see..."

He held up his hand again. This time, he seemed a little agitated that I interrupted him. "Hold on, let _me_ explain. See, I've noticed your work had been quite good, despite the fact that you have yet to get air time. But... your mentality isn't quite up to par with what I expect out of my backstage announcers."

I think tears were welling up in my eyes. I could almost hear Vince McMahon's infamous words echoing through the room. "And what would that be, sir?"

"Take Todd Grisham for example. He's small tempered, and a bit of a pansy." A smirk was making it's way across the left of his face. "You're not that stand-off-ish, are you? I've seen your temper, and I think it's perfect."

"Perfect for...?"

"Let me finish!" He laughed. Now I knew Coach really was just messing with me, and later I was going to mess his pansy man-servant ass up! "But then again... that's what I love about you."

"You like that I keep interrupting you? Oh... sorry."

"Now, here's why I asked you here. Next week J.R.'s going to a funeral, which leaves only Jerry, and I need a replacement for him."

I stood, not realizing I had done so, and leaned forward on his desk. "You want me..._me_...to do ring comentary?"

"You don't want to?"

"NO! Not what I meant! What I meant was... why?"

"What a more perfect way to get you started without having to introduce our superstars to your short fuse. So what do you say?" Once again, he presented the papers in front of me.

I was about to sign, but I had a second thought. "What happens when J.R. comes back?"

"We'll worry about that later, but don't worry. I don't think you'll serve your purpose behind a camera."

I was convince. "Where do I sign?"

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Cena brought over dinner later that night. It was our usual Monday night ritual, some Peking Chef Chinese and a vintage WWE DVD. Maybe ice cream, too. And alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol.

I was on my third bowl of fried rice, second rum runner, and in the middle of "Hulk Hogan: The Ultimate Anthology", when I couldn't contain my excitement anymore. my food was spilled on the floor as I jumped up and stood in front of the television.

Cena laughed, walked over and picked me up, then carried me to the couch and sat me back down. Taking my glass from me, he smiled, "Sweetie, I think you're done for one night."

"You know what?" I sat as close to him as possible, making sure he was listening to me and not just thinking it was some drunken ramble.

"What?" He was humoring me. I felt slightly offended, but I think that's because I was just a _little_ drunk. (I had a few drinks of my own waiting for him to feed me.)

Grabbing his cheeks, I forced his eyes from the television and to mine. "I'm a ring commentater."

"What?!"

I opened my mouth to tell him the entire story, but his cell phone cut me off. "Goddam it!" I knew who it was, and I hated it. His stupid ass girlfriend was always stealing my thunder. I guess that's the worst part about being the _best_ friend, the _girl_-friend comes first.

"Ace, just hold on a second. Let me tell her I'll call her back. Okay?"

"Just answer the damn phone. We're taking the same flight tomorrow, right. I'll tell you about it then."

**A/N: **i've been getting good feedback so far. let's keep that up! and...again...another introductary chapter. now's when my storyline kicks in.

and yes... the fact that Cena's girlfriend keeps calling is going to be important in the future.

luv ya'll! ta for now!

Ruby


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **a sincere thank you to all of you who reviewed. really. i mean it. reviews urge me to write, and saying this... here's the next chapter!

a few comments on my part first.

a) Ace is going to refer to Cena using several names. just cause i usually do. either it will be Cena, Johnny, John (more serious tone), or JC. i tend to call him JC, so you might see a lot of that. just so you don't get confused...

b) on the note of confusion. for all those who didn't understand chapter one, i added an explantion (at the end of chapter one). i didn't tend for it to be confusing, so i thought that an explanation might help.

well... hope you like the chapter. i'll admit... i really liked writing this one.

read out and rock on

Ruby D.

Chapter Four

The lights whirled around the dome of the arena. The sounds boomed from the speakers located every several feet. Fireworks went off all around me. Everything echoed; the screams of the crowd and the guy in my headset tell me that the introduction was almost over. Cameras flooded the floor, showing every last decorated image of the illusion. Everything sparkled, and for two hours, everything would be as perfect as it could be. Or as perfect as we could make it.

I was sitting at the commentating desk at the top of the ramp, waiting for it all to begin. Tonight, King ran the vocal introduction. "Hello and welcome to another broadcast of WWE's Monday Night Raw. Jerry "The King" Lawler here with my new partner, WWE Diva Acelynn, filling in for J.R. So Acelynn, what do you think's gunna happen tonight?"

The camera's pointed at me and I could practically feel the stares from every single body in that arena. The rush was completely worth it all. "Call me Ace, King."

"'Kay, Ace..."

"Well, I dunno. The spontaneity of the show is what makes it as great as it is..."

"Well, put."

I was completely beaming from ear to ear. I knew that if I could just get past the first couple of minutes unscathed, I'd be absolutely fine. Then entrance music started, which made me jump in my seat a little.

"Your time is up, my time is now.

You can't see me, my time is now.

It's the franchise, boy I'm shining now.

You can't see me, my time is now..."

A song I know all too well. Cena came out on the stage, waiving his championship in the air and doing what he always does, searching the crowd for signs with his name.

_I just love seeing them, knowing that those people spent their good, hard-earned money to see me... _

I can remember when he told me that.

The crowd roared with shear giddiness as he jumped all around the stage. Some booed, but not many in this crowd tonight. Not as bad as usual. At the mouth of the ramp, and in the middle of his song, he stopped, saluted, then continued marching towards the squared circle. Not before glancing over at the commentary table and giving me a subtle wink, though.

I hadn't talked to him since we got off the plane in Massachusetts and headed in our own directions. Really, I was kind of pissed at him. More at his 'girlfriend', though. Man, how I hated her. _I wonder how long she'll last... _I wondered to myself, but I stopped from spacing out entirely. Doing that on television would be horrifying.

No, I wouldn't submit myself to that. Instead, I talked. I talked about what was happening in the ring, I talked about what was going on in the backstage area. I talked about all the trash talking Edge was doing (which is usually a complete load of shit). And I talked about what the divas were wearing upon King's request. Every once in a while I'd throw in a couple of witty remarks, some political verbal jabs, and a event in WWE history every now and then.

I never thought the end would come... more like I didn't want it to. It _was _a spectacular ending, though. Even I will admit.

After everything that happened to Hunter, whom I've only known for a few days before his accident, I was glad to see the DX plot line end just like it should have:

In an extremely courageous, and mildly outrageous, handicap match, Shawn Michaels had mercilessly beaten Randy Orton and Edge all by his lonesome self. He came down the ring, and intense glare sending shivers through the spines of true WWE fanatics. He was a man with a mission. The match, lasting approximately ten minutes, was one of the fiercest I have ever had the pleasure of witnessing. And this sight was no pleasure. A bloody, sweaty, nearly defeated Michaels comes back with moments left, plants his foot and starts his infamous stomping. The crowd goes crazy as he plants his "Sweet Chin Music" squarely in the jaw of an unsuspecting, gloating Edge while his partner was swept to the floor by an interference on the part of Ric Flair. After getting the pin, Michaels drug himself from the now crimson coated canvas and reached under the mat to grab a sledgehammer that has been his teammate's '_friend_' through thick and thin. Flair joined him in the ring, carrying two chairs. One in each hand. Flair carefully placed a stupefied Edge between the chairs, then stood back as he watched Michaels raise, then lower the hammer in a sickening thud of revenge. Edge's body lay twitching in the middle of the ring, but Michaels wasn't done yet. He took out a can of green spray paint, from where I couldn't see, and scribbled:

Suck it

-DX

across the width of his back.

It was truly the perfect ending to the illusion.

- - - - - - -

Cena caught up with me after the show. I was still seated in J.R.'s chair, my feet resting on the announce table and my eyes looking directly at the ring. The monitors were gone, and all the headsets were disconnected, but it still felt like I experiencing the show. The rush was still there.

"So..." He started, sitting in King's seat, "this is what it looks like over here."

"No, it's better." I smiled.

He acted like he fully knew the extent of my joy. Cena acted like he knew everything. But this time he really did. He let me marvel in my own little world for a second more, leaving me to be an astronaut in the space case that I called a brain, then continued to speak. "So... should I order the same thing, or you want to go crazy tonight?"

"How crazy we talking?"

His mouth curved into a malicious smile as he formed his hands into the evil pyramid of contemplation. "...Sushi..."

I burst out laughing, finding it hard to keep my balance on the edge of the seat. "You're such a reject!" The laughter subsided as I wiped my face from all expression. "I am not eating raw fish. AM. NOT. Got it?"

"Oh, come on, Ace. Live on the wild side."

"Having you as a friend is wild enough. I'll pass on any extra adventure."

"You suddenly become to good for me, Little Miss Commentator?"

"Oh, didn't I tell you, Johnny? Brad called me last night. As in, Brad Pitt. He told me he's splitting with Angelina for me. Said I was just too good to pass up..." I kidded, finally snatching my butt from the chair. "You can have the raw fish. I'm too excited to eat."

He let out one last 'ha', as he put his arm around my neck and forced me through the curtain.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

I was sitting in my plane seat, de-toxing from all the excitement that was still coursing through my veins. I was so jazzed, I skipped dinner with Cena (for more than one reason. Sushi... no...!) and traded my ticket for an earlier flight home. Sitting in the row of seats by myself, I realized I actually liked being by there all alone. No Cena with his cell phone ringing every ten seconds. No prima-divas trying to make small talk about useless things. Honestly, I love most of those girls, but some of them need to wake up and see that I don't give a shit about what their hair looked like five minutes ago.

Hugging my knees to my chest, which was only slightly uncomfortable because of the seatbelt, I pulled a blanket around my shoulders and fell into my own little world.

Very little can pull me from this unrealistic existence, but something caught my eyes a few minutes later. Across the aisle sat someone looking extremely familiar. He was bobbing his head to the music he was listening to and lip syncing the words. What pulled it all together, and overall distracted me, was that he was playing air guitar in his seat. It was one of the most outrageous things I've ever seen someone do in public, yet it was very entertaining.

Do you ever get that feeling that someone's staring at you? You just know it. Like someone's searing a hole through your soul, staring you down with no mercy. Well I guess I was staring. And badly. I didn't mean to, but I couldn't help place who this random guy was. He noticed. He stopped his concert and glared back at me like I was invading his privacy. Really I was, but I won't ever admit that out loud.

Usually I was one of those girls that would continue to stare, like I wasn't doing anything rude. This was different. I saw him look, and my head shot back to the seat in front of me faster than you can say "breakneck". He noticed this, too, and smiled in my embarrassment.

Adding a smile of his own, he got up from his seat and started towards my little row of seats. He sat down next to me as I huddled closer to myself and pulled the blanket over my face. Ever since I was a kid, I had subconsciously believed in the mentality that "if you can't see them, they can't see you." I know it's completely incorrect, but it was something that was burned into my brain at an early age. And, to add some more embarrassment, by Gumbie no less. Actually, it was his little red horse, but who am I to nitpick.

Letting a small, innocent whimper pass from my vocal cords through my lips, I realized the severity of what I was doing. I must have looked like I was two-years-old, hiding from the monsters in my closet.

I can't remember the last time I was _this_ mortified. Slowly letting the blanket slip from my head, I looked towards him. He was staring this time. "Jeff." He smiled, adding a small nod.

It hit me like a sac of bricks! Jeff Hardy! That's who the random guy was! I couldn't recognize him with his mass amount of hair-dye and wrestling attire. I felt stupid for not noticing earlier, but to my defense he really did look quite different in his "street" garb. His hair wasn't as piece-y or multicolored. In fact, it was pulled up and out of his face in a loose bun at the back of his head. I guess the radical sideburns should have tipped me off, but still... There was a completely different air about this man out of his WWE domain.

"Ace." I tried to force a laugh, but it wasn't exactly working. It was more like a gurgle than a giggle. "Acelynn."

"The new chick?" His raised his eyebrows with pure intrigue. I piqued his curiosity, and I slightly liked it. "You were on air this week?"

"Yeah." This feeling of shear discomfort was making me recall my school-girl days where my every thought was consumed by boys. Now_ that_ was discomforting. I shook my head to free myself from these thoughts, then focused on actually having the ability to form complete sentences. "Yeah, J.R. had something come up."

"Huh."

And that was it. The entire ride, he just sat there. Of course I refrained for engaging any type of conversation in fear of stumbling over my words. There couldn't be any other possible way to make me look even more foolish. Unless, that it, I actually tried, and I think we all know that I wasn't about to do that.

One question I was dying to ask, though: why the hell is a Hardy going to Boston?

- - - - - - - - -

By the time the plane landed and I actually managed to get a cab to my apartment, it was well past the wee hours in the morning. Truthfully, it was Tuesday. The excitement has ran it's course and was now only a beat in my heart, a memory that I could never forget.

Cena called me that night, talking between mouthfuls of leftover raw shrimp on white rice. "Why's you leave so early?"

Do I tell him the real answer? _I hate your goddam girlfriend and I didn't want to celebrate then have my appetite to be ruined when that annoying little 'ring' goes off in your pants. _Maybe his cellphone, maybe not. "I wanted to go to my dad's house and talk about it with him, but it was really early when I got back." I lie because I care.

"See you in couple days then?"

"When it's off to work. Yeah."

Click.

(Dial tone)

For some reason, after my interesting experience on the plane, I didn't really want to talk to him that much.

**A/N: **this chapter totally sucked and i will be the first to raise my hand and proclaim it. truth be told, i was writing this story to releave(sp) some stress i was having while worrying about my finals. in fact, i blew off all my other stories to try keep my mind from wondering. well, at 11am tomorrow, my finals will be over and there isn't that much stress anymore...

hope it didn't suck that much.

reviews are love!

Ruby

p.s. CENA RUPTURED HIS SPLEEN AND REFUSED MEDICAL TREATMENT! I read it in an article. how much does that completely suck!

(sobbing slightly) GET BETTER JC!


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:**

okay, this chapter answers a lot of questions. like:

who is Cena's girlfriend?

why was Jeff in Boston?

what the hell does Jeff Hardy have to do with this story?

(if you haven't noticed, i like making lists of things!) well now that that's said and done, here's chapter six! i hope you guys like it!

Ruby

**Chapter Six**

Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same. Sometimes not. In this case, it was, but that doesn't mean I have to do it.

I was sitting in the airport, casually glancing at the flight schedule, waiting for Cena to come back from where-ever the hell he was. I decided, even though I discovered I liked flying by myself, I'd avoid another mishap by going with my usual companion. I had no idea what I was going to be doing this week, or even if I was going to be on air at all. Not only that, but all week I was plagued with the horror of that plane ride. I had no idea where most of those feelings came from, but I was very reluctant for them to return.

There's only so many marbles in this world, and I only have so many. I don't think I can afford to lose anymore is what I'm getting at.

I was sitting in no particular way. Nothing about me said, _HEY! Look at me!. _My legs were crossed, my arms were crossed, and my foot was bobbing. I know it's lame, but I was so bored I was even humming the music that was coming from a nearby elevator. But that's not the point of my earlier statement.

My earlier statement applies to what happened next. Cena came back from God knows where. He handed me a cup of lukewarm, mediocre coffee that faintly smelled like sewer water and sat beside me, putting his arm in it's normal place around the crook in my neck. "Couple more minutes," he sighed, sipping his own sewer water.

I thought all was normal. Little did I know of, oh, how wrong I was! We sat like that for several moments, until Cena took his arm back and leaned forward onto his knees. "What?" I asked, not sure I really wanted an answer.

"Guess who's contract expired last week?"

Fear glazed over my eyes. "Whose?"

That's when I first caught sight of the blonde bitch. All five foot ten, one hundred twenty-two pounds of pure Florida bullshit. Michelle McCool. "Are you fucking kidding me!?" I jumped up, ready to walk out. I remembered the reason I was at the airport as well as the fact that I couldn't miss this flight.

That's when the inner battle first commenced. True, she was Cena's girlfriend and I couldn't change that. True, that I if I ever really thought I cared for Cena as my best friend I would step up, push away my own personal demons, and be civil. Screw civil.

"Ace, stop. You don't know her."

The look I gave him was so fierce that _I_ could feel the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. Then I looked at her, who tried to avoid my gaze. "I'm sorry, but Michelle McCool should be wearing a sign that says _'I'm a slut, ask me and I'll show you how!'._ You deserve better than that. And yes! I do know her! I know her as the skanky ass little twit who can't seem to give me five minutes alone with you!" Jealousy rears it's ugly head once more! Usually not with me... but what can you do?

She pretended that she didn't hear me, and I was kind of glad she did. If she would have said something, I might have felt bad. Might have. I'm not sure yet. She mouthed a 'hi' to her boyfriend, as she handed him one of her handbags. He placed them on the seat next to him and kissed her as she sat on the opposite side. My mediocre coffee was about to become mediocre vomit.

"Oh, please." I mumbled, moving all the way down the side of the bench. No way was I sitting next to that!

Cena has been my best friend since we were five. He's had several girlfriends before this, most of them were ho-bags who just wanted to state that they were actually dating him. I was never jealous of them. Never. I didn't think it would be necessary to have such a useless emotion for such pathetic excuses for the female gender. Cena and I seemed to become more and more alike as time passed, but I couldn't figure this one out. For the life of me, I wish I could understand.

The flight was completely uncomfortable. I took the aisle seat, while the two _lovebirds_ occupied the middle and window seat. The design for this was easy enough to figure out: if they started making out, like they would after whispering and giggling to each other (shoot me!), I had an easy escape route.

I was slouching in my seat, thinking of ways I could make her disappear without having to develop superpowers withing the next couple minutes when I noticed Jeff sitting a couple seats in front of mine. Actually, I hoped it was him more than I actually knew. The only way to be sure was to grow some balls (metaphorically, of course) and walk up there. I did, but not before I took a deep breath and braced myself.

It was him, bobbing his head to music like the last time I saw him. This time, unfortunate for me, there was no air guitar in sight. I made a bold move and plucked one of the headphones from his ear. "Mind if I join you?"He smiled, shaking his head and moving over. I sat down, smiled back. "So,... I thought you lived in North Carolina. What are you doing in Boston?"

Jeff laughed, pulling the remaining headphone from his opposite ear. "I do. I had a sculpture being introduced at a art gallery in Boston."

"A sculpture?" I didn't know anything about this guy, except for his name and that he was extremely random, but this intrigued me. To think that this guy, a kid who takes the most risks of us all (in the WWE, I mean), is an artist.

"Yeah. Hobby."

"Uh-huh." I was smiling uncontrollably at this point. Not because it was funny, but because this was clearly making him feel as uncomfortable as I was at our first meeting. "Go on."

"I do abstract stuff. Mostly sculptures."

"And... come on. I hid under a blanket a few days ago. I think you can tell me about something that you're obviously good at." My hand went to my chin as I gave him my full attention. "What do said sculptures consist of? Because it seems to me, that someone like you would be quite far from the norm. And that's not a bad thing."

"The one that was being shown was made out of tinfoil and paint. Mostly." His cheeks went from a faint pale to rosy red within seconds. "Okay. I don't want to talk about that. You, miss Acelynn," I took a moment to tune out an appreciate that he remembered my name, "have intruded upon my territory. What do you have to say to that?"

"Ahh. Easy question. See, there's my best friend back there who goes by the name of John Cena."

"Name rings a bell," He kidded, regaining his composure.

"Yeah, well his little... thing... is back there with him and it makes me sick to my stomach."

"Would I know this thing?"

"Michelle McWhore. Fresh from Smackdown with a new, certain something to give to Raw. Most likely a STD."

He rolled his eyes as his smile curved deeper. "Again. Name. Bell." He repositioned himself so that he was facing me, giving me the attention I had given him earlier. "Go on."

Unaware that I was doing so, I found myself telling him everything. Everything from how me and Cena met, to how we remained friends all though our grade school/college years, to how supportive I was when he told me he wanted to be a wrestler, to how he helped me get a meeting with Mr. McMahon. Everything. Including how he met the ho-bag in the process. "Sounds like grade 'A' jealousy." He stated bluntly, turning towards the window.

"That makes me feel loads better." I rolled me eyes, finding myself twisting away from him too. "I already _knew_ that! What I don't know is why." I suddenly found myself liking him less.

"You want my advice?" I nodded, staring at my lap. "You sure?" I nodded once more, regretting it more the more he asked. He leaned over, grabbing my chin between his forefinger and thumb, then gently placed his lips on mine.

I was shocked. In horror! This was something I could definitely not describe. My hands grapple from his chest as I pushed him away, sending him flying towards the window. I looked at him, ever muscle in my face completely rigid. My gaze only lasted for a few seconds as my eyes darted around the seats for Cena.

He didn't even notice.

He was staring into the eyes of McWhore, deeply in conversation about something. It felt horrible seeing him look at her like that. "What the hell was that!?" I whispered a yell.

"You said you wanted my opinion."

"Yeah, your opinion. Not your tongue."

"Well I needed to conduct an experiment to achieve the perfect opinion."

"And... get on with it Dr. Phil." My gaze never left my best friend.

"You love him."

I slapped him. Hard. I didn't mean to, but it was pure instinct. "That's ridiculous!"

But was it really? In that moment I realized why I harbored such lavished amount of hatred for this girl. I wanted what she had. I was in love with my best friend, and it took a virtually complete stranger to kiss me for me to even realize it.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

I felt a need for chocolate. A really, really big need for chocolate. More like a really big need to get sloshed, but that might get me fired. Chocolate.

Not all events that day had led to this craving, though. As soon as I got to the arena, which was extremely early, Mr. McMahon summoned me to his office once more. Long story short, this week I was doing ring announcing. Lilian Garcia had gotten a bad case of laryngitis, due to the bad winter weather. Really, I think that that's too much a coincidence. What I think he is really doing is rotating me around to try to find where I fit in best.

To my dismay, there was not a measly piece of chocolate in sight. Not one. Not even a single bar. Sop instead I opted for a cold shower. Well, not cold so much as hot, but I like the expression 'cold shower' better. The situation seems like I'd need one.

So I let myself into the unoccupied diva locker room, changed into my shower garb (my birthday suit and some flip-flops), and turned the faucets on full blast. Letting the water trickle down every crevice of my body, all I had time for was to think. And I did.

I thought about a lot of things. Most of them including Cena. Most of the including McWhore. Now this really was the hardest thing I've ever been through. Being in love with your best friend...I never thought that I'd be possible between him and me.

When I got out of the shower, there were no towels. I had gotten to the arena so early, the staff hadn't even finished meeting our requirements. Apparently, towels weren't that high on their list. So I went naked. I figured, 'hey, no one's here'. I stepped from behind the curtain, rubbing my body from all excess water, and walked out to where I put my bag.

The one thing I can tell you about my best friend is that he always has the absolute worst sense of timing. In this situation as well. I had just got done zipping up my skirt for that evening when he stormed through the door and embraced me in the biggest hug I had ever received from him.

"You okay?" He whispered in my ear, completely unaware that I was still naked from the waist up.

I panicked, not knowing what to do. What I wanted to do was slip that skirt back off and see what he's do, but I don't think that would end well. "JC. Could you please... let go. But, DON'T LOOK!"

"What?" He untangled his arms form around me and stepped back, disobeying my orders. He looked. His eyes grew wide and his jaw dropped, but he didn't look away. McWhore walked in.

I laughed as I rushed to cover up and turn around. She yelled and screamed, I think she even kicked him a little. Needless to say, he would never just walk into a woman's locker room with knocking ever again.

I put on my scandalous clothing, and thought of whether I should go talk to him about it. McWhore might get mad. Mad-_der_.

- - - - - - - -

When Cena came down to the ring later, my voice cracked when I said his name. Not enough to notice, but I think he did. He wouldn't look at me and his step didn't have that same moxy it did last week. McWhore must have ripped him a new one. I can't blame her. I mean, imagine what it looked like. Him staring at my bare chest. I bet you'd crack your boyfriend, too. Not that I'd show your boyfriend my chest...

RAMBLING...

- - - - - - - - -

I came upon Miss McWhore after the show, waiting in the parking lot. When she saw me, obviously, she was not too happy. She turned her back to me, thinking that I'd just walk away. Yeah...when have I ever just walked away?

This time I meant to be civil, seeing as how I thought he genuinely liked her. Plus, he'd be pissed at me if she was pissed at him... So I took a deep breath and marched over. "McWh..." but I thought for a moment and started over. That was close. "Michelle, I know what you think you saw, and I can't deny that, but you can at least know the whole story."

"You're such a slut!" She pouted, refusing to look.

"Excuse me?" The total balls of this girl calling _me_ a slut! That I was not going to take from her. "You think I'm a slut? Let me ask you one question. Just how many guys have you slept with since you lost the diva search? Hmm?" I barked, my arms folded firmly across my chest.

She was silent.

"Counting, are we? That many!?"

"No!" She screamed, stomping her foot and turning around. "I'm ignoring you!"

"Well that's real adult-like." I spat, unaware that Cena was walking up behind me. "Let me tell you something you filthy little temptress, you may be JC's longest relationship yet, but he's going to screw you then lose you. You've just taken longer to do the former. I'm surprised you didn't jump him when you first saw him, although you were probably doing it your head, and..."

"Ace! What the hell are you doing?" He barked from behind me.

I closed my eyes and prayed to God that I was just hearing things. I knew that I wasn't when he got in a car with her and drove off, leaving me standing in the damp parking lot.

**okay... the strories heating up now. i think, if i have plotted correctly, that the next chapter will be the best and will begin the falling action of the storyline. hopefully i get that up by tonight. if not, tomorrow.**

**what do you guys think? REVIEW! i love all of you who do review! muchas gracias muchachas!**

**Ruby**


	8. Chapter 8

**ahhh! three chapters in one day! i think think iwas capable. my back aches from sitting in this goddam chair, my eyes are about to pop out from staring at this screen, and i think i may have developed carpal tunnel(sp)... but i think this is really good. **

**WARNING: **sex scene! anyone who gets offended by this, just skip over this chapter. it won't confuse you if you do, i promise.

**Chapter Eight**

I paced the floor of my hotel room, dialing Cena's cell number into mine over and over. Either his phone was off or he was ignoring me. I was never this petty, this pathetic, when I was content just being his friend. I haven't even been able to focus on my career lately.

I had actually been in the ring last night. My feet had actually been planted on the canvas. That all didn't matter. Not if he was mad at me.

The worst part of it all was that I didn't know exactly how mad he was. I offended him, by calling his girlfriend some names that he knew I truly meant. I'd never done that before. If he was only a little mad, I could buy him a beer and all would be forgiven. If he was moderately mad, I'd keep recalling old stories of our childhood until he forgot about it. But I'd never mad him this mad before. I wouldn't know how to fix this.

I sat on the bed, curling myself into a ball. I wish I had a blanket handy to put over my head. There's never one around when you really need it.

I couldn't eat. Even if I tried, I don't think I'd be able to drink that much. I spent the night, sitting on the edge of the bed, just waiting for him to call me and tell me everything was okay. He didn't. I fell asleep waiting for him. I was still waiting for him when I got on the plane the next day to go home.

- - - - - - - - -

I woke up the next day to an ear-splitting knock on the door. It was the loudest knock I've ever heard, and I knew it was him. It was a constant knock. Another thing about Cena, if he was mad (at me or someone else) I had to drop everything was doing and tend to him immediately. Men.

I pushed back the silky sheets and fleece blankets on bed. Rolling on the small part of my back, I placed my feet on the floor and forced myself awake. The steady banging stopped as soon as I answered the door and stepped aside so he could come in.

There was nothing special about him except that he was brimming with frustration. He ripped the hat from his head and ran the brim of it through his hair. I stood there, leaning against the door, waiting for him to say something. "Help me understand..." He asked, the tone coming from his throat with a growl. "Please..."

"Understand, what?" I didn't want to push his buttons, which is why I just said what I said instead of saying what I wanted to. _Help you understand why you're with her... I can't do that._

"Why do you hate her so much? What did she ever do to you? What did I ever do to you?"

_Because she's dating you, she called me a slut, and you made me fall in love with you! _"Now that's something you wouldn't understand." I sighed, walking over to my kitchen counter.

"I'm not kidding around here, Acelynn." Uh oh. He full-named me. "I'm about to put my fist through a wall if you don't tell me what's going on with you!"

"I can't." I whispered. Not to be dramatic, but now that he was here, I wanted him to go away.

"You can tell me anything. You always have in the past." He yelled. It should have been a trustworthy statement, but it was just anger.

"I can't!" I yelled back. The tension in the room was at a boiling point.

Could I really tell him that I loved him? What if he didn't feel the same way? What if he does love me? What if he won't leave McWhore? What if... He cut my thoughts off. "Tell me or so help me, Acelynn. I'm putting our entire relationship on the line right here and now."

"Yeah, well I am, too." All the yelling was giving me a headache. I couldn't take the stress anymore, so I told him in those three small words. "I love you."

Funny how three seemingly tiny words can become so big when put in the right combination. My entire life changed in that moment, and I was dead aware of it. I said it. The words were spoken. The ball was in his court.

He walked towards me, the anger in his eyes burning with such intensity that it made my knees buckle. Every memory of Cena I had stored in my mind fluttered around the room like a ghost waiting to be put to rest. I couldn't help but think that this was the end of it all. Everything.

The small things that we used to do never seemed important to m before, but now they all came painfully apparent. I guess the saying 'you don't know what you got 'till it's gone' is right. So unsparingly right.

He continued his advance, until he was towering over me, looming. He tightly clasped my shoulders in his large, strong hands. I truly thought he was going to hit me. My muscles went rigid as my entire body tensed. A knot formed in the pit of my stomach, knowing that I could never call him my 'best friend' again. I wanted to tell him something, say something comforting, but none of my words seemed good enough to define my hopes. Or fears, for that matter. "You hate me?" I managed, figuring something was better than nothing.

He didn't hit me though. He lifted my small, fragile body up until I met his eyes. He kissed me. Oh, how I loved his kisses. Open mouthed, tongue-dueling, teasing, mint flavored kisses that reached my core. The knot in my stomach unraveled in shear ecstacy as he mumbled the words, "I love you," as he moved his kisses to my neck.

I wrapped my legs around his torso and my arms around his broad shoulders. He intricately placed kisses around my neck as he laid me on my bed, applying his full body weight to mine. He rubbed his hands all over my body as they found the hem of my nightgown. He quickly removed it.

Moving from my neck torso, he cupped my breast in his hands as he slowly traced the lining of my nipple with his tongue. I wanted to scream, but I let it die in my throat. I struggled with his belt, as he unzipped his jeans. Reaching in his pocket before letting them drop to the floor, he pulled a condom form his wallet and handed to me. When his boxers were removed, I helped him slip it on.

He undressed the rest by himself then, gripping my thighs, slid my panties from my pelvis to the floor. He stepped between my legs and resumed his position on top of me, our tongues finding each other. He sank into me. Hard at first. So hard, he made me cry out in pain. "Damn." He sighed, moving his mouth to my ear. "I'll make it better, I promise."

And he did. He moved with a urgent, grinding beat. My fingers traced his hairline to his shoulder, where I clasped for support. And leverage. Touching his bare flesh, I arched my back and writhed closer to him, felling the rolls of sensation he was giving me.

My body locked with muscle tension as I dug my nails into his shoulder. He didn't seem to mind all too much. His hands grasped my butt, lifting my pelvis towards his pumping hips. With one last sensational plunge, an orgasm ripped through all my tension and made my body go limp. He pulled out, rolled off of me, and lay panting at my side.

Then my brain kicked in and made me think. "That probably shouldn't happen again." I whimpered, collecting my things and heading towards my bathroom. I left him laying there, completely naked and well endowed. When I reemerged from the bathroom, fully dressed and ast my senses, he was gone.


	9. Chapter 9

long chapter... a lot of talking... i don't necessarily like it, but it isn't the worst thing i've ever written. actually, i think it's kind of cute. keep in mind, it's corny-cute. i want it to be that way. just cuz...well... that's how life is sometimes.

Ruby

**Chapter Nine**

"I want to go in a completely different direction," Mr. McMahon paced in front of me when I was sitting in his office the next week. "I heard that you got in to a fight in the parking lot last week..."

"Not a fight...more like a squabble." I slowly nodded.

"A fight in it's lowest form." He corrected. "With Michelle McCool?" I couldn't help but make a sour face when he said her name. "You know she's not a Raw superstar yet. Hasn't filed a new contract. I think we can get a good rivalry out of you two."

He had _no idea_! Not only would I be able to beat her ass, but I'd be able to do it for a reason. But then again, I've never wrestled before. "What are you thinking, Mr. McMahon."

"To put it bluntly, I'm thinking of making you a manager for a short amount of time with the possibility of 'ring-time'. You don't think I'd send you in there with absolutely no training experience, do you?"

"No..." I shifted in my seat, looking at the clock. "Who would I be offering my... services... to." That sounded so skanky!

"Well, there was a certain superstar who overheard me talking about the subject to one of my people..." One of his _people_... interesting. "...and he volunteered."

_Great, _I rolled my eyes, _some low-life superstar who needs someone to stand next to him to make him look better... _"Jeff!"

Jeff Hardy walked through the door, proudly displaying his Intercontinental championship on his shoulder. "Vince...Acelynn..." He smiled, sitting next to me.

"You?" I put my hand to my mouth and whispered, hoping Mr. McMahon wouldn't see. Who knows what plans he might have for me if her heard the story on the plane...

"Now the only thing we would have to do is visit the writers and tell them to come up with something believable." He continued to pace, only giving a nod to acknowledge Jeff's presence.

"Believable?" I asked, once again shifting in my chair. All this seemed so sudden. And to think, three weeks ago I was standing behind a camera backstage. Then again, three weeks ago I hadn't known I was in love with my best friend. And I most certainly hadn't made love to him. Weird.

"Yeah... why would there be a match between Jeff Hardy and John Cena. In theory, it doesn't make sense... but on paper..." He continued, sitting at this desk and picking up the receiver to his phone. He was about to dial some numbers, but I stopped him.

"What are you talking about? Why would that EVER happen?"

"You didn't know?" Jeff winced, placing his belt in his lap and staring at it. "Michelle is John's new manager." My mouth dropped.

"Until a contract is signed, she's just someone accompanying him to the ring." Vince resumed dialing then slammed the phone down, hearing a busy signal. "I haven't made up my mind about her yet."

I thought a moment, rewinding everything in my head. He said he loved me, yet she's going to be his manager... I thought that would make me mad, but it didn't. "I'll do it." I stood after my statement, almost knocking the chair over. Jeff stood and followed.

The hallway to the diva's locker room was long, and there was no one to talk to but my new "partner". He was walking faster than me, so I grabbed his shoulder and stopped him. "Why did you do that?" It was a stupid question, but it needed to be answered.

"To help out your career." He shrugged, trying to act like it was really no big deal. But it _was _a big deal. He was potentially giving me my boost towards being a wrestler. My dream.

"Okay...now what's the real reason?" I hardly knew this guy, but I like to think that I can read people pretty well. "I bitch-slapped you pretty hard on that plane. Why would you want to help me after that?"

"Because I saw everything. I saw how you looked at him on the plane. I saw how you looked in the parking lot. I saw how you looked in Vince's office a couple minutes ago. Each time, a different phase of devastated." He leaned against the wall. I leaned next to him, figuring that this was going to be a long conversation.

"Jeff Hardy, if you were a hole, I wouldn't be able to climb out." He gave me a sideways glance like I was crazy. In theory, I probably was. "It was supposed to be a metaphor to how unbelievably deep you are."

"I've never been compared to a hole before." He snickered. "I've also never seen something this incredibly sad." I took that as a insult. He saw this, and quickly followed up with, "No... that's a good thing! Okay, before I can do any more damage, I need to ask. Can I write about you?"

"What?"

"It's another one of my art-forms. I write emoetry."

"Great." I agreed. What else did I have to do? "Can I tell you the truth?"

"Obviously."

"I want to move past all that. Seriously. It affected my career for a while, and that's my dream. Ever since I was little, all I would do was wrestle with my brother or Cena in my backyard. Once, he even broke my arm because of it. Cena, not my brother. But I don't want to remember that anymore."

"Did you talk to him after the whole parking lot thing?"

"Kinda..." I was not about to tell him what happened. "But now I realize that I'm not mad at him. Or McWhore. It's not even one of those things where I'm mad at myself."

"Then what are you mad at?" I shook my head, not really wanting to talk anymore about it. "You have to be mad at something or else you would have been able to move on."

"I'm mad that no one told me. I grew up in this really closed neighborhood. Kind of like a _Stepford_ thing, but without the robots. I was always the most close-minded person I knew, and even just saying that is an example. I lived in a bubble. I just wished someone could have warned me that one day my heart would be on my sleeve. Or at least told me to get the hell out of my fucking bubble." I sneered. It was nice to talk to someone about this. Like this. Someone completely unbiased and uninformed. I think, in that moment, I had let my anger go and moved on.

"Well you'll have to square with that someday." He pushed himself up from the wall and started walking down the hall again. "I have to go get ready for my match."

"Right. I have to change, too."

He nodded and continued down the hall. I watched as his frame became smaller and smaller as he walked away, and I was truly grateful that I had that run-in with him on the plane. The first one. Where I looked like an idiot with a blanket over my head. The memory made me laugh for the first time in a long time. Or a week, but that seemed incredibly long to me.

At the end of the hall, Jeff turned and started walking backwards to look at me. "Hey!" He yelled, running into people he was passing. "Get out of the fucking bubble!"

I laughed, thinking of how majorly corny that was. Still it was good for someone to finally tell me.


	10. Chapter 10

**short, but important.**

**Ruby**

Chapter Ten 

I was sitting in the diva's locker room at the end of the night. There was only about five minutes left in the show, and the rest of the girls had the t.v. on to watch. I haven't seen Cena all night, although I had made it a pretty good point to avoid him, but this last five minutes belonged to him and I wanted to watch.

His music was playing, fans were screaming, haters were booing, and the commentators were leading up to the topic of him. Then nothing. He didn't come out. "Where is he?" Torrie frowned, knowing like me that the WWE and the fans were Cena's life. Chloe started whimpering, begging to be picked up, so Torrie set her on her lap.

I shook my head, focusing on the screen. I thought that if I concentrated enough, I could force him out from behind the curtain. Nothing happened. His music kept playing, the fans kept screaming, and still nothing. The screen faded to black as the WWE logo flashed across it.

McWhore came stumbling through the door. "Has anyone seen John?" She squeaked, clearly concerned. We all mumbled a distinct 'no', and watched as she fumbled over herself to get out of the room.

Maria stood from her seat on the bench and stood next to the television. "Mind if I change the channel?" It was funny; Maria always openly admitted that she loved to watch the 11 o'clock news. If you think about it, it's a oxymoron. Still, we let her change the channel. It's not like the program was going to magically come back on if Cena showed up. She turned the volume down, to let us engage in gossiping, then turned on Fox 56 news at eleven.

"I wonder what happened to him." Victoria sighed, beginning to take off her knee-braces.

"Ace, you're always with him. What happened?" Torrie stepped in, placing Chloe in her bag. "He's okay, right?"

"No!" Maria screamed a reply, pointing to the screen. "Look!" She grabbed the remote and upped the volume.

There was a huge car crash, involving a two cars and a tracker-trailer, on the highway just outside the arena. One of the car's was Cena's. The car was so mangled, that the only way I could tell was because the announcer had released names:

"...just outside the arena where the WWE Champion was supposed to perform tonight. In a split second, the two cars were totaled, killing one of the driver's instantly. The other has been sent away to the nearest hospital. His condition has not been made available..."

I grabbed my keys, completely forgetting everything else, and ran out of the arena. All I kept thinking: _Please God, let him be in the hospital..._

I know it sounds horrible but, considering that the other option was death, I guess it's not as bad as it sounds.


	11. Chapter 11

**another short chapter... hope it's good!**

**before you start reading this one, i want to take some time to appreciate my loyal reviewers. **

**-SuperModelCraving-, cenazlilbabeethug, MissPhilippinesSuperStar, cenagirl5421, Takerslady, and punkydiva17**

**i love you guys sooo much! you're awesome! and...since this my first WWE fanfic, the amazing reviews are making me think about another WWE fic... maybe a sequel...hmm...?**

**Ruby D.**

Chapter Eleven

Thank God...THANK GOD...it was him in the hospital. He was in the emergency room when I got there, so I had to wait in the lobby until the doctor was done with his examination.

It was about a half hour later when the doctor came out. I was pressed against the wall, trying to make myself less noticeable if McWhore showed up. After all, I didn't know if he told her or not. The doctor said Cena's name, and I stepped towards him. "Are you family?" He asked, inviting me to walk with him. I nodded, thinking that he might not let me see him if I said no. "He's pretty banged up. Some scratches and bruises, but nothing's broken. There's probably going to be a little internal bleeding...and I mean the tiniest amount...from hitting the steering wheel at the speed he did, but that should correct itself in a little time."

We stopped walking when we came to a glass cubicle with the number '5' written across it in white paint. "Can I see him?" I was on the verge of tears, but I held them back. It was a hard fight, but I held them back all the same. The doctor nodded, opening his hand towards the cubicle. And that's when I started crying.

The door closed behind me with a 'whoosh' as I approached his bed. He was unconscious, which was due to the sedative they gave him. There was a large gash along his hairline, running from his temple to the middle of his cheek. Parts of his face were purple and swollen, with other small scratches accentuating the accident. It was completely heartbreaking, and I knew I wasn't over him. Even though I said it before, I hadn't moved on.

I held his hand in mine, as I cried into my other fist. I shut my eyes, hard, to try to stop the tears. Although my lids were squeezed to their limit, the tears kept flowing, staining my cheeks and leaving wet spots on the side of the bed.

I felt something touch my cheek, and my eyes shot open. He was awake, staring at me with a small smile curved on his lips. His hand was bruised and red, but he head it up to the soft spot on my cheek and wiped away my tears. I held it tightly, and cried deeper. "Hey," I whispered, in between sobs.

"Hi," He whispered back, moving his legs and wincing in pain. The tears stopped, for his sake. I didn't want him to think he was dying or something like that. With a deep breath, the sadness left my heart, and anger filled it. I was steaming that McWhore wasn't here. She was his girlfriend, as I was so crudely reminded. She should be here.

Then he anger left when he started smiling again. I then reminded myself that he hadn't asked where she was, even though he was probably wondering just like I was. "What happened?" I asked, helping him sit up.

"Testing out my airbags," he kidded, again wincing at the pain in his body. "How was the show?"

His dedication made me laugh. "Fine. The crowd was a little upset that you weren't there, but you had a pretty good reason." It was like time stopped in this instant. Just me and him, staring at each other. I took a chance just then. Reached up to the gash, I ran my hand through his hair, filtering out small pieces of glass. "I meant it. Every word." He seemed confused. "When I said that I loved you. I really do. It's just that with Michelle..." I didn't even think about calling her 'McWhore'. My eyes faded to my lap.

He took my chin with his fore and middle finger and held it up so I was looking at him. "I broke up with her."

"But...she's your manager..."

He shook his head, "She did that, not me. When I left your apartment the other day, I went home and she called. At that point I was still debating whether to tell her or not. I ended up telling her right before tonight's show. That's why we took different cars." He was barely whispering and his voice was low and raspy. It didn't matter, though. All that mattered were his next words. "I love you, too."

He grabbed my hands and pulled me towards him for a hug. I think I hurt him when I hugged him, but he didn't say a word. Cena kissed the top of my head as I curled into his chest, crying with joy this time.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

On my left was Jeff, sitting with the chair's back between his legs and leaning over the top. On my right was Cena, sitting with his legs crossed and an arm around me. Where it rightfully belonged, might I add. I leaned back in my chair sliding my hand onto his knee.

I never took my eyes off of Vince, who was seated at the head of the long table. This meeting with the writers was turning sour, and the boss was getting angry. There was a phone in the middle of the table, where the voice of one of the story writers was emanating.

We had been in this conference room for hours, fighting over how to handle the situation at hand. How was Jeff Hardy going to end up in the ring with John Cena and make it seem real? How do we keep the illusion in tact?

Vince leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. The possibilities were limitless, but the writers were pissed because they already had everything written out until the next pay-per-view where all the storylines changed.

Earlier that day, I talked to Vince about what was going on, explaining that Cena and McWhore were no longer together. Let me repeat that. No longer together. Feels good, doesn't it? Anyway, I told Vince the story because I wanted him to direct the storyline that way. The way where McWhore gets nothing except an ass beating. Then again, he kind of had to be unbiased...

"So what are you getting at, Walter?" I heard Vince ask when I zoned back in.

"_I'm thinking...Cena has Michelle has a "manager", right? What if we show shots of Cena talking to Acelynn outside of his dressing room, then he kisses her and takes her inside then we go to a different camera and show Michelle standing there watching. We can start the jealousy feud right there. Then we can have a match between Cena and some superstar where his rival comes down to the ring and does something... we'll work out the details later...Acelynn will rush down to the ring and take care of him while Michelle..."_

"Woah! Sorry to interrupt, Walter." I stood, leaning on my fists. "Isn't that delving a little too personal into what actually happened? Are there some sort of lines we can't cross here?"

Vince sneered at me. "Imaginary lines. I make the lines. Therefore, no." He pressed him back into the chair and made it tilt. Folding his hands over his stomach, Vince looked at the ceiling with a certain gleam in his eye.

"Mr. McMahon?" I sighed, wondering what he could possibly be throwing at me this time.

"Vince?" Apparently Cena was just as uncomfortable with the look.

"Walter, I think you may have something there. There's three weeks until out next pay-per-view. That's enough time for Acelynn to learn the ropes. We'll start with your idea, then build up to a match at the pay-per-view where Acelynn will compete against Michelle for the ultimate stakes. Winner get a full year contract with Raw and gets the managerial position with John Cena. Loser, goes home."

I froze. Cena and Jeff got up from their chairs simultaneously, while Cena wrapped his arms around my shoulders. "Vince, that's not right, man." He sighed, pulling me closer to him.

I was at a loss for words. But only for a moment. I wriggled free from Cena's grasp, which I knew was only to keep me from doing something completely stupid, a crossed my arms over my chest. "I already have a contract with Raw. What happens if I lose?" I stated.

"Not a wrestling contract, my dear. You have an "additional employee" contract. A wrestling contract is different. You forfeit your original contract the minute you step foot in that ring for competition. That way, everything's fair. Plus, with an added bonus, we don't have to come up with some crazy idea about Jeff Hardy being in the ring with someone whose storyline isn't familiar."

My heart tore in two. I had to fight for the guy, and now I had to fight even harder for my career. Cena's cell phone went off. He was just going to let it ring and go to voicemail, but I reached into his pocket on instinct. The name _Michelle _flashed on the small screen for the second before I flipped it open. "Get over it, bitch!" I yelled, slamming the phone shut and handing it back to him.

Vince smirked at my actions. "This is going to be good."

- - - - - - -

It was a Thursday. It was raining. I felt like I was in hell. I was laying on my bed, staring at the ceiling. Actually, I was spaced out and listening to music, but it looked like I was staring at the ceiling. I started singing to myself, as I often did when I was thinking.

"Hmm, hmm, hmm, hey let go of all you know. You're flying away now. What have you got to lose? Say out loud these words I've found. I'll be there when you come down. I'll be waiting for you..." (_Holly Wood Died_ by Yellowcard)

There was a knock at the door, but I wasn't about to get up. I might lose my train of thought then. Instead, I yelled that the door was open and waiting until someone showed up in my bedroom. It was my dad, bringing me food that my mom had made for me.

"Hey, Princess," He smiled, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I know that face. You make that face when you're seriously thinking about something. Or..."

"Dad," I cut him off, "please don't bring up the potty-training story right now." I sat up and hugged my knees to my chest.

"Funny, I never heard that one." Cena laughed, coming in after my father. He kissed me on the cheek and curled up behind me, his arms wrapped around my waist. "I saw your dad downstairs..." He explained.

"So why the long face, Princess?" Dad asked, standing up. I could tell it made him kind of uncomfortable for him to be sitting on the same bed as my boyfriend and me.

"I might lose my job in three weeks." I sighed, letting myself fall into Cena' comforting arms. "I have a match at the next pay-per-view, and the stipulation isn't that great. Well, for the winner it is."

"Then win. Where's the problem?" My father always told me he was my number one fan, even when I wasn't in the WWE. He was the one who first let me watch it with him, and I've always loved him for it since. Not only was it my dream to be a wrestler, but I could describe how proud my father looked when I told him I had first gotten the job.

"Well, it's against his ex-girlfriend and she's probably hell bent on revenge."

Cena laughed, but I put a stop to that with an elbow to the gut. "I'll train you. I'll be there at ringside. Do you seriously think I'd let her hurt you? Or worse, screw you over? That's not going to happen, Ace." I smiled, not knowing what else to do. I felt safe with him, and his words. I trusted him. "Once you're in the gang, you're a member for life." he continued.

"Okay, Mr. 'Word Life'. I believe you."

My father clapped his hands together then held them out to me, helping me stand. "Let's go have some of that food your mom made, then."

"As long as it's not sushi." I laughed.

**had to write this while i had it fresh in my mind. i know Ace comes across as very mary-sue... but that's okay, i guess.**

**whatcha think?**

**Ruby**


	13. Chapter 13

**ummm...implied sex (no descriptions)...tons of emotion...thoughts on the accident...**

**this chapter is just to fill the gap. answering questions like "how's cena doing mentally?" and it kinda develops their relationship more. kinda sucks. i don't really like it, but i'll leave judgement up to you guys. **

**... here's the next chapter...**

**enjoy!**

**Ruby D.**

Chapter Thirteen

I caught myself on the top rope, trying to steady my aching legs. Leaning back and letting the colored barrier bounce me somewhat, I slid down to the canvas and let out an exasperated sigh. I was exhausted, I as frustrated, and I desperately wanted a blanket. Sweat was dripping from every inch of my body. Rubbing the back of my neck, I gathered as much cold sweat as I could to rub over my burning cheeks. I knew this was going to be hard, I knew what to expect, yet it all seemed so complain-able. I basically knew how to do everything, growing up in the environment I did, but I still had to learn how to do it right.

I heard the metallic sounds of the door opening, and sounds of treadmills running and weights clanking off each other, before the door slammed shut again. Cena stepped in between the ropes and took a seat on the turnbuckle. He steadied, and repositioned, himself as it gave a little under his weight. "I think we're done for today. You're beat."

"It's not whether I'm tired or not, JC. It's if I want to keep my freakin' job." I sighed, standing and placing my hands on my hips. "I want to keep going."

"You don't want to hurt yourself, Ace. _I'm _saying you're done. Now to the fun part."

"Fun part?" He jumped down from the turnbuckle and hoisted me in one arm, placing me where he had just been sitting.

"You need to pick out theme music and create an entrance."

"It seems to me that that kind of pales in comparison in the big picture." I yawned, lifting my feet and hands in the air in a well deserved stretch.

When my feet were rested on the second rope again, Cena walking between my legs, hands firmly clasping the underside of my thighs (to keep me from falling), and pressed his forehead against mine. "You've never done this so it would pale in comparison in your perspective. You need these people to love you. If they believe in you, if you show them all the confidence I know you have, then you'll win. You'll have support. And most of all, you'll have the foundation of a true career. Clear?"

"Crystal." I managed a weak smile. He kissed me, then pulled away and stepped out of the ring.

"You bring your iPod? Speakers?"

"Yes and yes. They're in my bag." He jumped from the ledge, softly landing on the mat below. He didn't think I noticed him wince. "Don't hurt yourself, okay. I can tell you're still sore from the accident."

"I'm fine." He pulled out the implied devices and began searching.

I followed him, slipping under his arm. "What are you doing?"

He continued to search through my iPod, squinting to get a better look. "_Stare at the Sun_ - six-hundred and twenty seven plays." He nodded. "Damn, you listen to a lot of music."

I snatched it away from him, stepping back so he couldn't reach. "It's my favorite song. Why?"

He took it back, then plugged my portable speakers in. Music blared through the tiny spheres, and echoed around the room. All the noises from the front to the gym were drowned out as _Stare at the Sun _by Thrice pierced every ear nearby. "Now it's your theme music." Pausing the music, he pushed me slightly towards the door. "Pretend it's a ramp and strut your stuff for me." He slapped my ass, sending me to the door.

- - - - - - - -

"Can I ask you a question?" I had just got done packing for this week's broadcast when Cena called, asking if I wanted to go out for dinner. Of course I agreed, but I've had something on my mind ever since that night in the hospital. I figured a candle-lit, secluded area would be the perfect place to ask him. Plus, if he freaked out, we'd be in public and he'd look bad (..which would cause him not to freak out so much...).

"Shoot." He took his napkin and dabbed the corners of his mouth. It was so adorably cute to see that he dressed up just to go out to dinner with me. Keep in mind, this is Cena we're talking about. The man who wears jeans and jersey's (or t-shirts) absolutely everywhere. Tonight he was sporting a blue polo with nice, new, jeans. It wasn't "wedding" dressed up, but I appreciated it all the same. Plus, he'd probably insist of taking it all off when he took me home, along with my dress.

I folded my arms on the table, ignoring my food. Really, I wasn't that hungry. "Do you think about the accident? I mean...with someone dying...and all."

He dropped his fork and mirrored me. "All the time."

I felt bad that I asked, but it was good to know that he was thinking about it. Well, for his mental health, I mean. "You didn't kill that man. The police told me what happened. You didn't cause that accident. That tractor-trailer did. You didn't kill anyone."

His hand ran down his face and stopped at his chin, covering his mouth. "It could have been me."

"You can't think like that because it wasn't. It you dwell on that statement, then you'll never really live the rest of your life." I whispered, not sure if I should continue the conversation. It was better to get it all out though, and I just assumed that if he really loved me, he would tell me. To make me feel better, at least. Not to be selfish, but just so that I don't have to worry about him every time he gets behind the wheel. Which, in the long run, would come back to bite him in the ass.

"You believe in fate, right?"

I paused, cautious to answer this one. "No. I believe in destiny."

He swept himself from his seat and sat in my booth, leaning his head on the wooden back. I had never seen him look like this. This down trodden. This...dare I say... depressed. I was starting to regret that I ever said anything. "What's the difference?"

"Fate is something that tells me that I have no control over my life whatsoever. The only part I play in fate is a role that's already written for me. And destiny...well, my dad always told me that I had the power to create my own destiny through my choices and actions; that everything I do contributes to the future. Which is why I'm constantly spacing out. I think things though. Well, sometimes. Fate...that's just scary."

He nodded. He took me by the hand and pulled me from the booth. We left the restaurant after that and hardly said anything to each other on the way home. In fact, it wasn't until later when we were butt naked on my bed, limbs and sheets entangled, that he said anything. I slipped his shirt on, the crawled back into bed. He moved and laid on my stomach, staring up at me with wide, dark eyes. "What are you thinking?" he asked.

"The better question would be, 'what are _you_ thinking?'" I smiled, feeling his torso stretching to breath along my thighs.

"I'm thinking, from what you said earlier, that I chose my destiny when I broke up with Michelle for you, and that changed my fate in the accident. That's why it wasn't me. I was getting a proverbial second chance so I could do this right."

It was such a romantic thing, but all I could do was stare at him not exactly knowing how to respond. 'I love you' seemed too simple. I wanted to break the silence. I wanted to let him know how that statement made me feel. Words just seemed so useless though.

I caressed his cheeks with the pads of my thumbs. He brought himself forward and kissed me. "You'll have me forever." I finally whispered, as he slid inside me for a second time.

- - - - - - - -

**STARE AT THE SUN LYRICS** - Go to my profile for lyrics to "Stare at the Sun" by Thrice.


	14. Chapter 14

**another chapter. it starts the countdown to the pay-per-view (which i haven't named because of confusion issuses). the NEXT chapter is going to be the pay-per-view, skipping the week before (which i have omnitted because of length issuses.) then chapter one will come back in with some edited areas.**

**sorry this chapter took longer than usual. i was trying to make it longer, at the request of a few of my readers, and i just ended up being reptative so i started over from scratch. hope it's at least a little longer.**

**here it is!**

**Ruby**

Chapter Fourteen 

Matt and Jack (from chapter two) stood outside Cena' locker room, fitting me with a microphone and preparing for the upcoming scene. "We got a good ten minutes," Matt smiled, hooking the microphone battery to the back of my skirt.

"Don't smile like that, Matty. It's creepy." I laughed, tugging at the hemline of my crop top. Cena came into the hall in nothing but a towel and sopping wet. "What's all this about?"

"Walter changed the scene to make it more scandalous. _Now_ you're going to be in the locker room with me when Michelle comes in. I pull you in to the bathroom just as she comes in, then she bangs on the door and...well...you know." he grabbed my hand and split his fingers in between mine to keep me from pulling at my shirt. "Stop pullin' at it. You look fine."

"I don't care about how I look." I snapped. I never used to, and I was sure that that statement was semi-true. Even if I did care, it was only because my father watches the show, and ever since this whole escapade started I've been given depleting amounts of material to wear.

"Michelle's coming from make-up." Jack reported, lifting his camera.

The red light on his camera began to flicker until it became solid. The illusion had begun.

Cena pulled me into his chest, gripping my shoulders and pulling me upwards so I had to stand on my tip-toes. My fingers ran across the hemline of the towel around his waist, rubbing as far down as I could without getting the WWE in trouble with the FCC. Really, I was playing with the belt-loops of his jeans underneath, but the audience couldn't see that. His forehead touched mine, the water dripping from his earlier "shower" saturating my hairline and making the small pieces of my face-frame (see note) stick to my cheeks. His hands ran down the length of my arms until they locked with my own.

He kissed me, but it was only a t.v. kiss. A kiss for entertainment purposes. It was tender, cute, with just the right amount of suction so that my lips smacked when he parted his lips. Nothing special.

Ad my hands joined behind his head, and his forearms were pressing against the small of my back, the handle to the locker room began to jiggle. Cena swept me off my feet and into the steamy bathroom just as McWhore passed through the threshold.

There were a couple seconds where Cena and I just laughed inside the bathroom, our hands over out mouths to stifle the noise. Our "serious" faces returned as McWhore, followed by Jack, stormed through the door just in time to see me unravel Cena's towel as he stepped into the running shower.

She yelled, I yelled, Cena "covered up" again. She slapped me, I slapped her harder, Cena tried to break it up. The camera shut off just after she and I both had fistfuls of each other's hair. Cena was pulling McWhore by the waist as three officials stood in my way and pushed me back out into the locker room.

The red light started blinking again until it faded out.

Cena dropped McWhore the shuffled to move passed her. She put her hand in his face. "Can we talk?" She asked, trying not to sound as pathetic as that statement assumed. She looked innocent enough, except for the fact that her horns were showing. She barked an, "ALONE," as she looked in my direction.

Cena started shaking his head as he walked over to my side. "No, it's okay," I sighed, heading towards the door. My hand reached the handle, but my mouth didn't want to leave. "I have something to say first, though. I never realized exactly why I hated you so much before, but now I think I do. I thought it was the jealousy on my part, and while some, if not most, of it was, there's something else. I hate that you're _jealous_. I mean, you have no right to be. I've known Johnny since I was five. FIVE. I grew up with him. I went to school him. In college, I talked to him two or three times a day. Me and him,... we're as close as you get. (ex) Girlfriend or not, you have no right to be jealous of that. And that's why I hate you. And you hate me. I hate that you call every five seconds, I hate that ruined my time with him, and I hate that he wasted his time on you, although I can't speak for him."

"Are you done?" She snapped, folding her arms and tapping her foot. Her body language said everything that needed to be said on her part.

"No. One last thing. I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry, but not for what you may be thinking. I'm sorry that things turned out this way. I'm sorry...that you think I wronged you. But mostly, I'm sorry because I don't think I did." With all that finally said, I left the room.

Cena followed me out into the hallway. "Thank you," he whispered, smiling and laughing.

"I just told her that I hated her because of her personality and that I didn't do anything wrong when I stole her boyfriend from her. What's there to thank me about?"

"Because you meant it. The words may have been a little harsh around the edges, but the whole thing was a form of closure. Not only for yourself, but for her and me, too. Closure all around. Good thing. Good thing." He paused, then turned to go talk to his ex. "Oh, and you didn't name call. Also a good thing."

I nodded, not being able to hold back the giggle that was coming from my vocal cords. "Yeah. A hard, but good thing."

- - - - - - -

My flight wasn't until the wee hours of the next morning (Wednesday), so the plan was to continue my training. Well, that was _my _plan. _Cena's_ plan had changed along the course of the day, much to my surprise.

"What do you mean you're not going to be there?" I stomped.

He tried to calm me by placing his hands on either side of my neck and rubbing the soft spot of my cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. "Something came up. I'm sorry, but I can't get out of it."

"What am I supposed to do without a coach? Two weeks, JC. TWO! FUCKING! WEEKS!"

"Okay...okay..." He leaned in, kissing a spot on my neck between his fingers. He knew I couldn't resist when he kissed me there. "Do you really think I'd leave you hanging like that? Especially when my contract is on the line, too?"

"Then what?"

"Just go to the gym tonight. I have to catch a earlier flight, and I'll meet you at your place tomorrow afternoon. Okay?"

- - - - - -

I did as I was told, which was kind of odd in a way. At the request of some of the WWE superstars, the local, bigger, gym set up a replica of the ring somewhere in the remote corners of their backrooms. Usually the rings weren't up to scale, and consisted of nothing more than a few mats and ropes, but it was better than nothing. I stood in the middled of that "ring," stretching and waiting for my temporary coach. Guess who walked in?

"I'm going to get a freakin' restraining against you!" I laughed, as Jeff Hardy walked into the room pulling his hair up. "Let me guess, you "overheard"?"

"Actually, Cena asked me. But if you want to believe that I'm so coincidental then go ahead." He laughed back, moving from his hair to lacing his boots. "Okay, given that me and Cena have two different styles, I asked for some help from some friends." With that said, Torrie Wilson (with Chloe under arm), Maria, and Mickie James gathered around.**

* * *

**

**NOTE: **when i say "face frame" i mean layers of hair gradually getting smaller as they reach the tip of the forehead. they're too short to be called "bangs", so i use this term. i have them, and that's what i call them...well...beacuse they frame my face.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

I watched the monitor backstage intently. Cena stood there, McWhore at his side. They were fighting. "I don't understand why I can't just come down to the ring with you." She snapped, her arms folding just underneath her chest, pushing her bust upwards.

_Smooth, _I thought with a sly smile crossing my lips, _flirting and fighting at the same time. Anything to keep the crowd entertained... _But was all this really for the crowd? Her obviously attempt to show off her "assets" was a little too obvious. This whole situation, the written and choreographed one, was turning into a play about the actual.

"Just because," he barked back. She turned from him, getting all choked up with a single tear dripping down her powdered cheekbone. "Look, your match is right after this. Just stay back here and wait."

"I want to come down with you!" She yelled, stomping her foot and throwing her arms to her sides, her familiar childish expression pouting.

"And I don't want you to. It's gunna get brutal, and..."

"I bet you'd let _her_ come with you..."

Cena shook his head at her last comment, knowing as well as me that _that_ line was NOT in the script. He grabbed his championship from the soundboard guy, then walked through the curtain.

- - - - - - - -

I was in the fetal position behind the curtain, waiting for my music to start playing and for everything to follow through. I was zoning myself out, trying to push back the hatred that flooded my judgement, but at the same time I was trying to harbor it for strategical uses. My hands were clasped over my ears, and my eyes were shut as tight as I could close them.

This was it.

I was about to strut down to the ring, celebrate with Cena because he had just retained his WWE championship in a brutal match. He would be bleeding, he would be sweaty, he would be hurting, but I was instructed to jump on him, kiss him, and wait for McWhore to come down to the ring. That's when our match would begin.

Speaking of the devil, she appeared from behind me. I only noticed because of the shadow she was casting loomed over me. "What are you doing?" She asked, the cockiness in her tone ripping through my focus and almost forcing me to get in her face. I restrained myself.

"Please...just stop." I sighed, standing up to stretch out my back. My voice was drowned out by the fans cheering. Cena had just successfully delivered a FU. "Give it up. It's over."

"It's not over!" She retaliated, turning tail like I thought she would.

"Yeah... it is." I slipped behind the curtain and made my way to the top of the stage just as Cena's music began blaring. The silence -save to roars of the crowd- cut through the air in the arena, as my music cut through his.

"I sit here clutching useless lists,  
And keys for doors that don't exist,  
I crack my teeth on pearls,  
I tear into the history,  
Show me what it means to me in this world.  
Yeah, in this world."

I raised my arms in the air, presenting myself to the crowd. I was watching Cena, the whole time, from the top of the ramp. He was standing the middle turnbuckle, his championship held as high as his arms would stretch. His eyes stared back at me, pure adrenaline was coursing through those blue pools, taking in everything around him. There was something else, too. Something I couldn't see from up here. I lowered my arms as the chorus started, and started making my way to my man. I liked the way that sounded. _My_ man.

"'Cause I am due for a miracle,  
I'm waiting for a sign,  
I'll stare straight into the sun,  
And I won't close my eyes,  
'Till I understand or go blind."

I made sure to rotate my hips as I walked, accentuating my legs and curves. The people were cheering. Cheering for me. Some booed, but that's just because I was portrayed as the "other woman". Some boos were expected. Still, every lowered voice I heard broke my heart a little.

"I see the parts but not the whole,I study saints and scholars both,  
No perfect plan unfurls,  
Do I trust my heart or just my mind?  
Why is truth so hard to find in this world?  
Yeah, in this world."

I stood at the foot of the ring, peering through the rope. Just like I was instructed. The crowd was drowned out, and only me and Cena were in this moment - embedded in this time - taking it all in. The steel stairs were to my left.

"'Cause I am due for a miracle,  
I'm waiting for a sign,  
I'll stare straight into the sun,  
And I won't close my eyes,  
'Till I understand or go blind.  
('Till I understand or go blind.)

I know that there's a point I've missed,  
A shrine or stone I haven't kissed,  
A scar that never graced my wrist,  
A mirror that hasn't met my fist,  
But I can't help feeling like I'm...

Due for a miracle,  
I'm waiting for a sign, (Waiting for a sign)  
I'll stare straight into the sun,  
And I won't close my eyes. (And I won't close my eyes.)

Due for a miracle,  
I'm waiting for a sign,  
I'll stare straight into the sun,  
And I won't close my eyes."

I brushed past him at first, heading to take a microphone from Lilian Garcia. She handed it to with a genuine smile - she never engaged me in a babble about her hair! - and I met Cena in the middle of the ring. Time stopped completely.

We just looked at one another, our eyes wrapped up in one another's. I now some the "something else". I saw his raw passion. He dropped his championship to the canvas, completely forgetting about it. Something I never thought I'd see him do. He grabbed hold of my hips and pulled me up to him, enough so I was able to wrap my legs around his waist. Then our next scripted movement. The kiss.

It wasn't a t.v. kiss. Not by a long shot. He opened his mouth, tongue lashing into mine. He traced the tips of my teeth with his tongue. It was the most passionate kiss I had ever experienced, including the kiss the initiated this entire thing. When it was over I stood on his feet, my eyes still closed and mouth wanting more.

When I realized I wasn't going to get anymore, I opened my eyes to only see his still closed. He wanted more, too. They fluttered open seconds later. I had only now noticed the trickle of blood that was lining his eyebrow, flowing down his face. "Good luck," he whispered.

I felt like I didn't need it now. I let my feet drop to the canvas and held the microphone up to my mouth. "Ladies and gentle, you're reigning WWE Champion..." But my words were cut off by McWhore's music.

She marched down to the ring. I really mean marched. Her arms were perfectly still, sans the slight automatic swing from her momentum, her spine was held pin-straight, and her white-hot stare never left mine.

It was like war.

Cena backed away, subtly rubbing his hand across the small of my exposed back, took the microphone from me, then got on his knees and rolled out of the ring. He was going to observe from ringside.

McWhore stomped up the steps and climbed through the second rope. Once her feet hit the canvas, the bell rang and she lunged at me.

I side stepped.

McWhore fell over her own two feet, quickly recovering to her feet. We circled the ring for a few moments, making it look like we were trash talking one another. Really, we were just moving our lips. She stopped circling, seeming to yell something towards me as she raised her arms. I tackled her.

The crowd, and King, went crazy as we tumbled around the ring kicking and punching. She was on top of me, clawing at my face and hitting my head off the canvas. I managed to break through her frivolous attacks and grab a handful of hair. It's a dirty move, but I was willing to do just about anything to save my career at this point. Tugging as hard as I could, I pushed her off me and managed to get back to my feet.

The referee was telling me something, most likely about the hair-pulling, but I wasn't really paying attention. The crowd was drowning him out. He broke up us, pushing us to separate parts of the ring, if only for a second.

We started our circle again, this time meeting in the center of the ring and locking up. With everything I had, I pushed her away from me, sending her sailing towards the ropes. She bounced off them, riding the momentum forward and straight into a clothesline. Her head hit the mat, hard. She grabbed pockets of her own hair, clutching the back of her head, while she lay on the mat.

It seemed like we've only been here for seconds, but I was later reassured that the match took at least fifteen minutes including two commercial breaks.

For the crowd, I put on a little performance. Cena was seated at the commentary table, his hat skewed on his head from the headset he had over it. He was grinning from ear to ear. He was putting on his performance, too, pretending to be the playboy that others thought he was. How his character was scripted. He was telling them that it was usual to have ladies fighting over him, although he always tried to keep humble. Really, he was smiling at me. I pointed at him, the same smile set on my face. The fans cheered, or booed, upon the sight.

McWhore stirred, still gripping the back of her head. I watched as she struggled to get to her feet, resting on her knees. I leaned onto my own, waiting for my moment.

She finally stood, groggy and unaware. She turned towards me, and stepped, instinctively, in my direction. In stooped low, until I collected her securely on my shoulders. She was heavy, seeing as how she was bigger than me, but I managed to hold her up there for the moments before I guided her body to one side and slammed it back down on the mat. I have just performed my first, and LAST, FU.

I laid on top of her, listening for the count by the referee.

One...

Two...

Three...

It was over.

**yes...Ace wins. but this isn't the end. not by a long shot. i'm prodicting maybe...two more chapters...possibly three...**

**ALSO! i'm thinking of writing a sequel... if i get enough support then i'll seriously start thinking about it. BUT THIS IS WHY I'M TELLING YOU THIS NOW! I'm looking for a CO-AUTHOR! for the sequel. mostly because it's going to be more wrestling involved, and i'm not that great at fight scenes (which is why this damn chapter took me so long to write.) **

**if you're interested, PM me or just write me a review...**

**until next time...**

**Ruby**


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

It was over. The stupid feud, which now seemed even stupider than ever, was over. I got to start fresh, new. I got to start my career as a WWE wrestler. More importantly, I officially got to start my life with John Cena. My man. In and out of the ring.

I'm never one to gloat, but in this case I would have if she was around. I wanted to dance around in circles, chanting "I beat you, I beat you," over and over again. I knew that was too childish, so I refrained.

Cena took me out for dinner that night. We 'celebrated' afterwards. I took that time to memorized everything I could about him. How his soft skin felt against mine. How his blue eyes glistened whenever he looked into my glittering green ones. The curvature of his chin in my shoulder. The ripples of muscle I felt while running my hands down his stomach. Everything. Now this was truly the perfection that I was striving for. It was also something I never believed I'd achieve. That, in itself, is a miracle.

The next week was when it truly got interesting, and when my world would come crashing down. It was my first concrete air-time on Cena's arm. First an interview with Maria, then build-up for a main event match. The next pay-per-view was already getting hype to who was going to be the next #1 contender for the WWE title.

The match was next, and I wasn't dressed yet.

It was hell, to say the least. I had my cellphone ringing, my hair sopping wet, and a pile of new cloths laying on the couch just crying out for me. I didn't even mind the tightness, or the fact that my wet hair was damaging my nice silk shirt and causing it to stick even closer to my back. I grabbed a hair-tie with one hand, my cellphone with the other, and expertly put my hair up into the messiest bun I could muster with only one hand. It turned out to be a pony-tail, but the saturated-ness was only slightly noticeable. I knew it was JC calling me - probably telling me to hurry my ass up - so I just threw it on the table once more. Then, I completely laced up my boots (which went all the way to the knee! Try doing_ that _in, like, two seconds.), then literally ran as fast as I could down the hallway.

Cena's music was already playing when I made it to the curtain, and I was left in his wake as he pushed his way through.

_Just made it..._ I sighed to myself, stepping in rhythm with him as he made his way down the ramp. "Where the hell were you?" He asked, his lips barely moving as I started up towards the ropes.

"I thought I had enough time to take a shower!" I explained, waiting him to open up the bottom rope for me. He was a gentleman like that. I sat on the top turnbuckle, like he had placed me that one time we were practicing, and watched as he did his thing.

Then his opponent came out.

Johnny Nitro accompanied by the ever so lovely, (cough) annoying (cough), bag of screams he calls a girlfriend, Melina.

How this main event even happened, I'm not sure.

They strutted down the ring, the faux pauperizes following their every step. Melina did her split, which actually made me vomit in my mouth a little, then they completed their entrance with all the theatrics of a bum on Vaudeville. Seriously. "A-list superstars"? Yeah, only if the "A" stands for "Ass-Kiss". Is anyone else disgusted by these posers? Anyway, back to the topic at hand. Nitro was in a match with JC, and I was stuck on the sidelines listening to the banshee scream her guts out. I had never hugged my ears tighter, and I know King made a joke about it.

But while I'm making fun, I will announce that this is when everything started going down hill...

There had been an interference on the part of Joey Mercury, which had caused Cena way more trouble than it should have. No one was paying attention to their scripts anymore; it was a chaotic free-for-all.

Cena had his back turned when Joey came down to the ring, while a distraction was being caused Melina who had fixed herself a spot on the apron. I, also, was distracted (by pulling the banshee off the apron) and didn't notice until it was too late. Mercury jogged around the ring, took Cena's WWE title belt from the announce table, and slid it to his partner who was _supposedly_ "knocked-out". All was good so far. Cena was supposed to turn around, intercept a blow from Mercury and deliver an FU. Then he was supposed to take his title back, all the while the ref was distracted by the fight going on between me and Melina, and deliver another FU, leaving the tag team lying in a heap on the canvas.

Notice I said, _supposed_ to...

Nitro hugged the championship to his chest, hiding it from view, while Mercury hit his cue and climb through the bottom rope. Cena was watching the side-line match between me and Melina, and was the first to notice when something was wrong. I had gotten the ligaments in my right knee reconstructed when I was sixteen years old, due to a softball incident. The same ligaments, which were never quite the same afterwards, were being stressed as Melina shoved her shoulder into them.

My kneecap popped and severed the ligaments...

I was rolling in pain, screaming at the pure agony I was in. The worst part was that the match couldn't be stopped just because of me. And even worse than that, Melina couldn't just stopped pummeling me for no reason. She didn't know it had happened. The ref didn't know it happened. The audience didn't know it happened. But I did, and Cena did too. He was so preoccupied with my current state, he froze in time and completely and forgot what was supposed to happen.

Cena lost the match that night, but it was lucky it wasn't a title match.


	17. Chapter 17

**short chapter, not exactly important. just something to get the creative juices flowing...**

**Ruby**

**p.s. this really happened to me! well, i had knee surgury, but this is what will happen if i ever fall on my knee again... so i write from experience. **

**enjoy!**

Chapter Seventeen

Roles had been switched. Now I was the one in the white hospital sheets, waiting for doctor's to come by in their scrubs and rush me off for emergency surgery. My wrestling career was over before it even started. Like the blink of an eye. Extremely cliche, but highly applicable to how I was feeling.

I woke up several hours later, my leg bandaged from my toes to my hip. I was woozy, and they told me that I had been out for seven hours. That meant that it was six in the morning that Tuesday. They also told me what I already knew. I had a cadaver's ligaments to replace my old ones, my knee was fourteen degrees off center (it has been since I was fifteen), and that I was done with wrestling if I ever wanted to salvage what little I had left of my own kneecap.

He walked into the room, the bags under his eyes telling me that he had been awake the entire time. He held a coffee in his hand and I deduced that it wasn't exactly his first cup. Brushing shaking fingers through my hair (probably shaking from the caffeine), he sat down on the bed beside me and kissed my cheek. Which was good, because I was still feeling the effects of being heavily sedated with food in my stomach and didn't precisely have all movement in her face back yet.

He would feel sorry for me, and he would care for me. I knew he would just by how he was sympathetically looking at me. That's when the grief set in. My career was done before it even started. I had just gotten things the way I wanted them.

KARMA'S A BITCH!


	18. Chapter 18: End

**ready for the last chapter??**

Chapter Eighteen

I was walking the next day, due to doctor's "extremely important orders". His words, not mine. Then again, he had the four years of medical school... I trusted him. The pain was excruciating, the swelling worse, and the sympathy unbearable. Cena just kept following me around, tending to my every need and whim like I was a cripple. Technically, and at the moment, I was, but I didn't wanted to be treated like one. His dream hadn't fallen out of arms reach. With this thought, the grief set in.

Stage one: denial.

I kept asking myself: "Why me? How could this happen?" That sort of thing. No crying. No dealing with the situation. In fact, every time JC would go to pack for another week (which he would always make a big deal about because "...what if I needed him...?" When did we both become so co-dependant?), I would start packing my own bag not realizing until I had everything I thought I would need. I would then regrettably unpack and continue my cycle of ice and heat.

Stage two: anger.

Stage four: depression

I skipped right over three (bargaining), because I had nothing else on the table. You can't make a bet with an empty hand.

Everything goes quiet. The lights follow suite, darkening everything around into a hollow abyss. The only thing left is the ring, sitting squarely in the center of the arena. Some artificial sunlight drips down from the overhead emergency bulbs so only a single circle is illuminated. Confetti litters the canvas, remaining the only remnants of this week's elaborate storyline. Something I like to call the illusion. Poetic, yet tragically realistic.

Some find the illusion comforting, something they can hold onto when they're in doubt. Others openly accept it, refusing to believe what lies beneath. Picture it: your idol, strong and handsome, valiantly fighting their rival and it all ending with a largely overdue celebration. I used to find the illusion comforting, and accepted it into my daily life, but not anymore.

I find myself sitting in the middle of the circle, legs crossed, staring at the giant screen hanging below the fist. My picture was just one that screen, JR and King wishing me the best of luck after I had to give a few words about my injury, and I couldn't help but keep that closest in my mind. My illusion was not only broken, but disappearing. Evaporating, even, from my existence. This was the last time I was going to be in a ring. My physical health wouldn't allow it.

And all for the sake of entertainment...

I spotted Cena appear from behind the curtain. His head dripping from the sweat running from his pours. Another tedious match, something I would never experience. Slowly, he makes his way down the ramp towards me, staring right back. I can see that he's smiling, but I know he's just as uncertain.

In this instant, it's like I can read his mind. He's asking himself what I'm doing here. He asking why this all seems so dramatic. _Too_ dramatic. He's thinking about asking me what I'm thinking about, how I'm _feeling_. He always asks me that, even if he really doesn't want to hear. If he did ask, I would surely answer.

Pathetic.

He continues towards me, stopping at the bottom of the ropes. I wanted to leap up hug him. I wanted him to come into the ring, pick me up, kiss me, run his hands over my body, and tell me that everything was 'okay'. I wanted him to be the one to make all my problems disappear, and for him to make everything better. I wanted him to tend to me, even though I had hated it when he had done it a couple weeks ago.

But he didn't. And I didn't. Instead, I sat harder. I brought my knees, the injured knee still numb from the removed nerves, to my chest in an attempt to hide myself. If the situation was as bad as I was making it out to be, he would come to me and do all the things I wanted. He didn't budge. He continued staring for another few, incredibly nerve-racking and intense moments, then nodded towards the barricade. He scaled it with one leap, then placed himself in the front row of folding chairs.

An explosion of sound came from his pocket in the form of a 'riiiiinnnnnggggg.' I watched him sneak his cell phone from his pocket and turn it off. It was McWhore, no doubt. She was probably wondering where he was. She was probably thinking that she had a chance now that I was out of action. She _would_ think that.

The silence was beginning to drive me crazy. It was making me reflect upon everything that had made me this pathetic. Yet, I subjected myself to it. And yet again, I wanted it to end.

Then the pity was washed away by a flood of anger ripping through my veins and cutting at my heart like razors. He told me he'd have my back! He told me that he's be there! Well he's here now and he's not doing a damn thing! "...talk..." The words passed through my lips on a whisper that was barely audible. I strained my eyesight to see more than just his outline when I realized he had no intention of doing anything. I felt the anger grow, forming a knot in my throat. "TALK!" I screamed, letting the pressure go.

He folded his hands to his chin and redirected his eyes to the floor. He was telling me: When _you're _ready...

Tears were running down my cheeks, staining them with the make-up I had be given to wear. Running further with every passing moment, more stains formed on the clothes I had been given to wear. This made me angrier. I tore at the material, shredding until I broke a nail. With that, the rest of my body crumpled to the canvas and I cried.

My dream, my illusion, was shattered...

And he couldn't fix it...

Stage five: acceptance.

There is a difference between recognition and acceptance. JC made me realize that and a most unexpected way. He sat me down one evening at his home, a quiet gathering of just me, him, and a small fire he had lit. It wasn't meant to be a romantic fire, but it turned that way before long.

He sat me on his lap, helping me a bit because my knee was killing from a particularly intense three hour session of physical therapy. It had been a month since my incident, and I thought I had gotten over it until now.

"Remember that talk we had about fate and destiny?" He smoothed some loose ends of my hair down into my ponytail. I nodded, resting my head on his firm chest. "I've watched you through this whole ordeal and I don't think that you're okay with it yet."

"I'm never gunna be okay with it."

"It's an obstacle. Eventually, you have to make your way around it. You have to realize that this is the point where you have to create your own destiny. You can sit back and wallow in your grief or you can say "I'm pissed and I'm not taking it anymore". Where's the old Ace I used to know? The girl who would kick anyone in the balls if they so much as looked at her the wrong way?"

"She's broken."

"She should hurry her ass up and heal. Even if she can't believe it now, she knows it's true. It's human. She can't stop living just because there was a road block. She should work as hard as she possibly can..."

I interrupted, feeling that this moment was in a need of an interruption. "Can we please stop taking about me like I'm not here?"

"Sorry... I was saying that you need to get back on the horse. Not to be cliche - since I think we're already past that - but you can't keep going like this because you're eventually going to get so swelled up in yourself, you're going to shut me out. And that, little miss diva, is going to mess with my plans."

"Plans?" My head raised from it's resting spot in curiosity.

One of JC's hands appeared from somewhere along his side, holding a small velvet box wrapped in a pink ribbon. "These plans."

"That was a hell of a proposal." I'll admit, I wasn't totally shocked. My fingers wrapped around his, squeezing hard to be sure that this was real. "Are you serious?"

"Completely, but please don't make me do the whole _get-on-one-knee-will-you-marry-me_ crap. That's just corny."

"I would never dream of it." At least that's what I think I said. I was way too busy processing everything going on to fully remember. "Can I see?"

He teased me for a while, slowly opening the box then snapping it shut at the last moment. He did this several more times, laughing louder each time. Finally he took pity on my and showed me the contents. Nothing. "What the hell kind of shitty ring is this? It's invisible, cheap-o!"

"I knew that if I picked out something that I thought was nice, but you hated, I'd never live it down. We'll go tomorrow and look for a ring. That is, if you say "yes". You've neglected to do that so far." I leaned in and kissed him. Oh boy, did I kiss him. "I'll take that as a "yes"." He smiled, a little dazed by the intensity.

_And so are the days of our lives..._

Just kidding!

When the camera's turn off, everything goes back to normal. The glitz and the glam fade, and everything turns out to be as ordinary as usual. Mostly, it's like high school. But then again, an entire lifetime is like high school. Never ending and full of unwanted drama.

I know what happens when the camera's turn off. But my next lesson is going to be what happens when the wedding bells ring.

**and so a sequel is born! you want to know when i'll be starting it?? add this story to your alerts list and i'll add an author's note stating details when i actually do got to writing it. **

**it's been a pleasure entertaining you. you have been an extrodinary audience and i will say that you are ALL rockstars in your own way. luv ya lots and i hope to hear from you again!**

**Nicole**

**aka Ruby Dust.**

**and for God's sake, keep on rocking!**


	19. Author's Note

**Author's Note**

The sequel has officially been started. Chapter one is in progress...which moves me to why i haven't finished yet... From those reading it, I have but a simple favor to ask. I am in need of a best-friend. Wait... let me rephrase that. _ACELYNN, _not me, is in need of a best friend. Instead of making one up, i thought...hmmm...LIGHTBULB... I wonder if anyone would like to have THEIR character make a cameo apperance in one of my stories...

a lot to ask, i know but been sure that i would give all credit where credit is due and i would only be molding said character around the creator's specifications. Preferablly i would like it to be a girl character though, and the creator would have a total say about what happens to said character.

again, just a random thought. send me a PM if anyone's interested!

as you have probably assumed from the last chapter of this story, my sequel will be called **WHEN THE WEDDING BELLS RING**

i lied. it's not going to be about more wrestling. it's going to be about more behind the scenese action.

Please continue reading. i do so hope you would!

Thanx bunches! You are ALL rockstars in your own accord!

Ruby D.


	20. Sequel

HOLA HOLA!

The sequel has officially been started. reapeat. sequel started.

that is all!

hope you enjoy!

Ruby


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